


Radio Silence

by e_mors



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 23:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_mors/pseuds/e_mors
Summary: Ultra-short birthday fic.





	Radio Silence

**Author's Note:**

> “I can’t believe this, you don’t wanna see me  
> There’s a radio silence going on”
> 
> \- James Blake

„Everything alright, husband?”

As soon as he hears the first syllable of this word he feels the familiar impulse to clench his jaw but he fights it off and covers it with a smile.

„Sure.”

The lie comes naturally, he’s so used to it now that he doesn’t have to put any effort into it anymore, even though the stone in his chest gets heavier and heavier with every minute that passes.

It’s almost midnight and still he hasn’t called.

He puts his arm around her, suddenly feeling lonely and desperate. She doesn’t notice, still scrolling, the light from the phone cold on her face.

He pushes the sheet off and gets up from the bed, even his body seems angry. To calm himself down he walks out on the balcony and lights up a cigarette.

He tries to reason with himself, organise and name the chaos in his mind. He calls it chaos to avoid the word panic. It’s only his birthday. Silly little thing. They facetimed day before yesterday, so it’s not a big deal.

Or at least shouldn’t be.

But he can’t pretend that everything doesn’t feel like a cheap ersatz. The celebration, the laughter, the joy - all incomparable to the real thing. He almost felt like he wasn’t really there at all, just because this small and muffled part of him was missing.

The cigarette tastes as bitter as he feels. He rushes into the bathroom in an urge to rid that taste from his tongue. Once he’s there he steps into a shower, a traditional place of his solitude. This is what his life is now. He needs a hiding spot, where he can be this sullen little boy longing for love lost. A designated space where he can think of Timmy.

He scolds himself as the cold water runs down his back. He even smacks his face with his palms. _Get a grip, you fucking pussy._

When he gets back to bed, she’s already asleep. It’s already past midnight. He doesn’t have any missed calls, any messages, nothing.

Radio silence.

He lies down and swallows through the bitter taste still prominent in the back of his throat.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry..


End file.
